Go

To get to there from here, you need to go
down roads the tourist maps have never shown
where being lost may help, for all you know.

Your guidebook’s sole instruction was to throw
away all books that claim a way is known
to get to there from here. You need to go,

but, driven though you are, the going’s slow.
Beyond the bounds of reasons you’ve outgrown,
you’re lost. It can’t be helped – for all you know

the way’s returning, counter to the flow.
Your head will tell your heart you’re on your own
to get to there from here: you need to go,

but leaving by itself won’t make it so.
Directions change, but signs are carved in stone,
so being lost may help for all you know.

Just go: and when the fogs enshroud you, show
the vision you still follow hasn’t flown.
To get to there from here, you need to go
where being lost may help, for all you know.

Ed Shacklee

If you have any comments on this poem, Ed Shacklee would be pleased to hear from you.